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She lowers her gaze. "Touch me," she whispers. "Every part of me is burning to be touched by you."
I let her go just long enough to pull off my polo shirt and then begin to do the same with her sweater.
"I don’t?—”
"I want to see you. We can go as slow as you want, but I need to see those gorgeous tits."
She relaxes her hands, letting me remove her sweater, but I leave her bra on. Brooklyn is still new to this—she’s inexperienced, despite already being a mother.
"Do you want my hands on you?"
She nods.
"Where?"
She takes my hand and presses it against her stomach, just below her breasts.
I claim her mouth, coaxing her to let me possess her with my tongue, mirroring the slow, deep rhythm of the pleasure I want to give her. She responds by clawing at my chest and moaning loudly. It’s almost a battle, both of us trying to take everything we can from the other.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard, and I love the raw intensity of her desire.
I unhook her bra and groan as her hard nipples press against my chest. Gripping her slim waist, I lift her slightly, driven by the primal urge to mark her with my teeth.
I take her breast into my mouth, swirling my tongue over one nipple and then the other, but it’s not enough. I cup both with my hands, reveling in the warmth and softness of her skin.
She whimpers, and the sound shatters the last bit of control I have.
I unzip her shorts, lowering them just enough to leave them clinging to her thighs. My movements are deliberate, giving her a chance to stop me if she wants.
But she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she grips my hair tighter, showing me how much she wants this too, urging me on.
I slide my hand into her panties, no hesitation, no warning.
My fingers glide through her wetness, and when I find her soaked core, my mouth waters with the urge to taste her.
"You’re so wet for me. You want to feel my cock stretching you, don’t you? You want me deep inside you?"
"Ahhh . . .”
I close my eyes as I touch her clit, firm and swollen with need, for the first time. She trembles in my arms, desperate and needy.
I rub slow circles over her sensitive nub, and her moans grow louder.
Brooklyn digs her nails into my shoulders, but then, as if regretting it, she starts to soothe the scratches with gentle strokes.
"No. Don’t stop. Bite me. Scratch me if you want to. I don’t want the good girl—I want the wild woman. You’re going to come on my fingers, my cock, and my tongue. You’re going to show me with your body how much you’re enjoying this."
I press my thumb against her clit, making slow, firm circles, while sliding a finger deep inside her heat.
Fuck, she’s so tight.
I push my finger all the way in, and she cries out, her hips rocking instinctively.
"You want more, don’t you? You want to feel full, want my fingers getting you ready for my cock?"
I add another finger, thrusting faster and deeper, never stopping the rhythm against her clit.
Brooklyn is so responsive, so sensitive, and it doesn’t take long before I can feel her teetering on the edge of release.